Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
T hank God it’s the weekend, because Kimo and I don’t get out of bed the next day. Except for when we’re in the shower. Or on the floor. Or on the couch. Or on the kitchen counter. Or up against the front door. And then on the floor again.
But we can’t just stay in bed for the whole week, of course. I still have to go to work on Monday morning, but Kimo gets up with me to make me breakfast, then hurries home so he can take the kids to camp. We text throughout the day, some of it silly, and some of it flirty, and some of it sexy, and some of it just plain stupid.
Exhibit A: Hi , he writes around lunchtime. That’s it. Just hi. But it makes me smile so hard it feels like my cheeks are going to burst. Hi , I write back, and send him a picture of me eating a cup of ramen soup at my desk. Beautiful , he responds, with two heart emojis.
Riveting stuff, I know. But it actually...is? I would be mercilessly mocking anyone else if I saw this kind of behavior from them, but when it happens to you...when you meet that person who gives you butterflies, not just because they’re handsome and sexy and can swing you around like you’re a sack of potatoes, but just because you see their name pop up on your screen, and they make you laugh so hard you can’t breathe, and you feel like tomorrow is actually going to be a good day, and all you need to do is just say something, anything to them so they know you’re still there and thinking about them...are there really any words that can capture that? Maybe hi is as close as it can really get.
Wednesday I actually manage to finish my work early, so I go with Kimo to pick up the kids from camp. It is pure chaos—hundreds of kids pouring out of the building and at least a dozen identical SUVs parked in a row and everyone passive-aggressively honking at each other to scoot forward. When Nalani and Makoa find us in the crowd, they both fight to be heard over the other to tell a story about people I’ve never heard of and that, frankly, doesn’t make any sense, just so they can be the center of attention for a moment. As we’re about to leave, Makoa realizes he’s forgotten his lunch box back at the school gym, and I see Kimo get genuinely irritated for the first time as we all have to circle back around. He keeps shooting me apologetic looks like he thinks I’m going to be annoyed.
I’m not. I have to hide my smile of pure joy. I can see how the grind of it could wear on you, day in and day out. But the way that Nalani and Makoa run up to us, and Nalani slips her hand so guilelessly into mine, and Makoa hands me his thermos like, of course, I’m just here to carry it for him...I can’t remember the last time I felt like I was such a part of something.
* * *
We fall into an easy routine after that. Texting when we’re away from each other during the day, making eyes across the conference table from each other when Kimo has to come into the office. On the days when I’m finished early enough, I go with Kimo to pick up the kids from camp, and when I’m not, I go over to the house and hang out with Nalani and Makoa while Kimo makes us dinner.
Luckily, the children and I have found a common language to share. Remembering how much the kids liked death, I dig up an old book of mine that I managed to keep with me throughout my childhood in the system. When I show Nalani and Makoa the cover, with the old haggard woman with her eagle eyes and wizened, decaying flesh, their eyes widen and they look at me in wonder.
“Come, children,” I instruct them briskly, sitting down on the living room floor and motioning for them to join me. “Let me tell you some stories about Baba Yaga...”
Aunty Kapono joins us sometimes, pretending to work on her quilting in the corner of the room, though I catch her frowning at me every time the tales start to get dark. Naturally, that’s the part the children like best, and if it comes down to catering to their whims or hers, I’ve decided I’m going to go with theirs. They’re much easier to win over.
As I read one story about Baba Yaga trying to trick her new daughter-in-law into a terrible death, I meet Aunty Kapono’s eyes across the room. She raises a brow at me, unimpressed. “A little on the nose, don’t you think?” she challenges me.
“As true today as it ever was!” I say brightly, as if I’ve misunderstood her meaning.
Aunty Kapono just shakes her head and goes back to her quilting.
Eating dinner is always a raucous, chaotic event. Between Makoa complaining about first not getting enough ketchup, then too much ketchup, on whatever it is that we happen to be eating, or Nalani constantly getting up from the table to try to show us the latest baton-twirling routine she’s learned, or the children fighting over who gets to sit next to whatever adult they’ve decided is their favorite for the day (sometimes it’s even me!), there’s never a dull moment. Any attempts that Kimo and I have to converse with one another are usually interrupted, either by the children or by his mother. Sometimes we manage to hold hands under the table, but not if Makoa’s underneath pretending to be a dog, or Nalani decides that she wants to be the one holding her uncle’s hand. She likes me overall, I think, but sometimes she wants to put me in my place, remind me that she’s his first, best girl.
Sometimes I wonder if his mother isn’t doing the same thing.
“I still think you should have settled with Pika,” Aunty Kapono brings up one night at the table, shaking her head. It’s clear, from the look she’s giving me across the table, who she blames for this decision.
I suppose she’s not entirely wrong. Kimo had seemed set on taking the deal before I intervened, but I wouldn’t have stood in his way if that was what he really wanted. After our conversation at the gala, though, he ultimately decided to tell Jay to reject the offer. We’re due to go forward with the case in just a couple weeks.
Kimo clears his throat. “Māmā, let’s talk about that later.” He looks meaningfully at the two kids, who have gone unusually silent at the sound of their father’s name.
Aunty Kapono shrugs. “We could have been done with it all by now. On our way home instead of just playing house here.”
There’s no ambiguity this time. It’s clear that statement is being directed completely at me . I swallow the chicken katsu that’s in my mouth, even though it suddenly feels like I’m trying to force a small boulder down my throat. Of course, that’s the natural next step of this. Once Kimo has full custody of the kids, they’ll want to go back to the Big Island. He’s never made a big secret of that, but he’s also never clarified what that will mean for us, and I’ve been too afraid to ask.
Is that all we’re doing together now, just playing house? Am I just filling in the role of girlfriend while he’s still in Chicago?
“I like it here,” Nalani says.
Kimo squeezes my hand under the table, catching my eye and giving me a wink. “So do I.”
I try my best to smile back, but I notice he doesn’t clarify whether that means they’ll be staying longer, or if he’s just making the best of things while he’s forced to be here. The latter seems like a very Kimo thing to do.
Abruptly, Makoa bursts into tears.
It’s so out of the blue that it takes everyone a minute to respond. Then Kimo’s out of his chair and kneeling at his nephew’s side, trying to coax him into lifting his face off the table. “Come on, little kāne. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to stay here!” Makoa moans. “And I don’t want to live with Pika. Whenever we go there he just sits on his phone and ignores us. He gets mad at us if we try to play and tells us to shut up.”
Kimo makes eye contact with me across the table. I feel the first stab of worry, wondering if Aunty Kapono is right, and if I made a mistake persuading Kimo to turn down that deal. Pika is their blood father, after all, and he doesn’t have a criminal record or a drug addiction or anything else that might automatically rule him out from getting custody. Just because he’s been a negligent father up until now doesn’t mean the judge won’t see things his way.
I look over to find Aunty Kapono watching me, too. From the way she’s pursing her lips, I’m guessing she’s thinking along the same lines.
“Hey.” Kimo gathers Makoa into his arms, then gestures for Nalani to come over, too. “You don’t worry about that, okay? I’m taking care of that. No matter what happens, we’re ‘ohana, you hear? Tūtū and I aren’t going anywhere without you...”
* * *
A family that sticks together no matter what. It’s a nice thought , I muse to myself, as Kimo walks me home that night. It’s another part of our routine. On work nights, when the kids have to get up for camp the next morning, Kimo just walks me back to my place, though when Friday rolls around, he stays over. Then we go back to his house and spend Saturday with the kids to give Aunty Kapono a break. I’ve looked ahead and it’s supposed to be cloudy, so we’re going to play board games and then have a movie night. Kimo’s reassured me I don’t need to let the kids win, so I’m planning on bringing my A game.
When we get to my place, we say a quick hello to Stan, who promptly makes himself scarce. Now that Kimo’s started spending more time at my place, Stan hasn’t been around as much, or at least his presence hasn’t been quite so obvious. I suppose Kimo is supposed to be my protector now, even though I’m a) a black belt and b) obviously much tougher than he is any day of the week. But I don’t find this decision too hard, because I also like our privacy, and honestly, it’s nice to have someone looking after me for a change.
Once we’re alone, Kimo kisses me until I’m dizzy, then rests his forehead against mine. “You make it so hard to leave you,” he murmurs.
My heart twists at the words. That’s never been my experience. I seem to be exceptionally easy to leave. I close my eyes and lean into him. “Tell me what it’s like at your house on the Big Island.”
If Kimo thinks the abrupt topic change is strange, he doesn’t let on. “We’ve got more space there than here. The house isn’t much bigger, but we have a huge yard and a big porch. We’ll do barbecues out there or just hang out and shoot the shit with neighbors when the weather’s good.”
“You have a lot of family that lives around you, right?” I prompt him, wanting to hear more.
“Oh, yeah. They come over at all hours. Hardly ever knock. Kind of like that Kimmy girl from your show.”
I laugh, and he does too, his thumbs making lazy circles where he’s holding my hips. For a moment, we’re both silent.
“I have some girlfriends who didn’t much like that,” Kimo says after a moment. “Everyone always up in our business.”
It’s stupid, I know, to get jealous about people he loved before he even met me, but I instantly hate these women—the ones who got to sit with Kimo on that porch and watch the sunset, who got to hold his hand on the beach and see his face first thing in the morning, who got to be surrounded by all that love but who had the gall to find it annoying. “Oh,” I say finally, because I don’t trust myself to say anything else without sounding like a crazy person.
Take me back there , I want to beg him. Let me soak up all that sun and love, and I swear I’ll never complain, not once.
But he doesn’t ask me, and I don’t say anything, and after a moment he sighs and pulls away, cupping my chin before stepping back. “I should get home.”
“Yep.” Irrationally, I want to cry, but I make myself smile, and blink rapidly so the tears can’t form. “Let me know when you’re back safe?”
Kimo gives me one last quick kiss before heading toward the elevator. He sighs like it’s a terrible effort to walk away. “I’ll find you in my dreams tonight, beautiful,” he promises, winking just before the elevator doors close.